


make the devil cry

by snakescript



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fuckbuddies, Light Angst, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Smut, playboy!taeyong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 17:17:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16022417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakescript/pseuds/snakescript
Summary: lee taeyong, the local heartthrob, the guy every girl dreams to date, and coincidentally, the owner of the bed you might have rolled around in - more than once. yet you might be the only one who’s heart he hasn’t claimed.





	make the devil cry

“Another round, please!”

You turn your head around to the guy next to you as he hollers the words to the waitress that just walked past your crowded table. A simple _ coming right up _ is heard as an answer as she disappears behind the counter, and Yuta now turns your attention back to your stern face. “Oh, come on, don’t look at me like that.”

“I told you, I had enough already.” Rolling your eyes, you slump against the backrest, arms crossed over your chest. The table in front of you is littered with empty glasses, crumpled cigarettes packages and a full ashtray, an array proving the hours gone by since first entering the usual, slightly shabby bar you tend to frequent on weekends. Reaching forward, you shake the carton nearest to you, delighted when finding a cigarette left in it. “I’ve got shit to do tomorrow, I can’t be dying from the hangover of the century.”

Yuta just waves his hand as if brushing both your words and worries away, leans forward and gives you his signature full-of-tooth smile. “You aren’t even drunk right now, so stop being a cry baby. Also, that one’s on me.”

“Well, in that case….” You raise your glass to your lips and tilt it back, draining the remains in one shot, just in time for the waitress to come back with freshly filled drink on her tray. The empty glass is exchanged for a new one, and a thank you falls from your lips, directed at both the waitress and Yuta, as he is the sponsor of the liquor you are now toasting with. You don’t turn down free alcohol, that is a rule you live by.

“Need a light?,” the voice next to your other side asks, just as you put the filter in between your lips, your fingers coming to skim over your tights to see if a lighter hides in your pockets. Nodding, you turn your head towards him, tilted just a little bit so he can light up easily. The flame comes awake with a small click, its dancing reflected in his large, mesmerizing eyes. Taking a drag, you close your own eyes to turn them away from him.

“Thank you,” you grin through the smoke curling out of your mouth. Through the hazy air, Taeyong looks enthralling, but then again, he always has does. It’s one of the things that makes him stand out so much, his appearance always mentioned as a footnote following his name.

He just returns your smile, eyes naturally narrowing as the corners of his mouth move upwards. “No problem.”

His eyes linger on you - or rather on your red stained lips curled around the thin cigarette, just for a split second, but long enough for you to notice. He is back to conversing with someone else before you get to react, though. You aren’t even sure what you were going to say. And, anyway, before long you are drawn back into the debate occuring on the other end of the table, a stupid topic, one only people who have too much booze in their system (as well as loosened tongue and softened brain as a byproduct) can have. Yet, you join too easily to judge them on it, adding your own arguments on what exactly is the difference between crunchy and crispy.

But with lots of talking comes a parched throat, that is only relieved with a liquid smoothing over the roughed up spot, and so another glass loses its content and a haze starts to grow in your mind. A pleasant one, though. It’s not a everything-is-getting-too-much feeling, but rather the electric buzz that accompanies the perfect degree of drunkenness, not too gone but gone enough to let loose and have fun. Somewhere next to you Yuta reminds you of your earlier words -   _ i thought you weren’t going to drink much tonight? _ \- but it doesn’t sound something like you would say, and also it’s Yuta and you never took him seriously before, anyway.

It goes by so fast, you don’t fully realize you have gone through yet another drink until you prepare to take one more sip and nothing hits your lips. You look up to search for the waitress from earlier. She is busy on the other side of the crowded bar, but it serves you just fine. You feel your bladder starting to complain and you can just order on your way back from the toilet.

Excusing yourself, you squeeze yourself past Jaehyun, who has occupied the vacant spot next to you that you swore Taeyong was sitting in just a minute ago. Yet, when you leave your little corner spot, you find him leaning against the bar talking to a small blonde you never saw before. Which isn’t unusual, you hear from others around campus. A gentleman and a damn handsome one at that, every girl wants to cop at least a look - even if they always hope for more. The few times you saw him around, there was always someone waiting to talk to him.

He doesn’t notice you passing by him, but you take the chance to steal a glance at the two of them. She’s a pretty one, you notice, sharp eyes paired with a petite nose and plump lips, which get dampened by her tongue that keeps darting out to lick over them whenever Taeyong seems to meet her eyes. You manage to stifle your laugh just about as well as she manages to hide her thirst.

Walking the way to the restroom proves a slight challenge, your legs just a little unwilling to balance quite as well as usual, and once inside the stall, the absence of the blaring music highlights the cotton state of your brain. It doesn’t veer your mind away from the wish of another drink, however. Giving yourself a smile in the bathroom mirror, you wipe away a mascara smudge and reapply the ruby color on your lips.

They haven’t moved much by the time you return, except she has gathered some (liquid) courage, each laugh that passes her lips she now accompanies with a touch of her hand on his arm. Discreet. It’s quite a spectacle to watch, her painfully obvious flirting and his collected demeanour. But you don’t plan to interrupt, so you quietly stand next to Taeyongs back at the bar, waiting for someone to take your order. You mind your own business, but the closeness lets you eavesdrop involuntarily, and you hear her saying she’ll be right back. The bartender finally spots you, and the sound of your voice as you order let’s Taeyong turn around to look at you - more specifically how you rest your weight on the counter to keep you upright.

“Hey, I don’t think that drink is such a great idea,” he says with a pleasant tone but there is something akin to concern lining his eyes. His body is turned towards you at this point, his full attention on you.

“How come?”

“I don’t know, you just seem pretty…” His lips press together for a second as he extends a hand to motion to the way you are standing not so much on your own. As serious as he sounds, there is still a hint of mirth glinting in his dark eyes. “... gone?”

You just wildly wave your hand in a motion that should communicate a  _ nope-it’s-not-like-that-at-all _ , smiling widely at him. “Don’t worry, I am completely fine!”

To prove your point, you try to stand up straight, relying only on your own two feet, but you should have known it wouldn’t work as smoothly as planned, stumbling right away. His hand darts out to grab your shoulder, keeping you from falling and immediately blood rises to your cheeks in embarrassment at your failure. If at least you’d have heels to blame. “Ignore this, you did not see it.”

Your words make his face light up, a laugh stemming from deep in his belly filling the air and you wink at him in return. You faintly notice how his hand is still resting on your shoulder, but at the same moment your drink gets placed in front of you. Nodding your head towards it, you grab it and start to make your way make to the table. 

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

“Yeah, stop worrying. I can actually handle my liquor, even if doesn’t look like it right now.”

He lets you be with a sigh at that, letting his body slump against the bar. You notice his eyes darting from you to someplace behind you, and as you turn into that direction, you find the blonde from earlier glaring daggers at you. You pay her no mind and make your way back to your table (surprisingly without stumbling or spilling your drink).

No one else seemed to have left, and you just make Jaehyun scoot over so you can place yourself next to him on the bench again. Just as you are about to join Yuta in his conversation, Jaehyun asks for your attention again.

“y/n, why did Taeyong just text me to make sure to keep you from drinking any more?”

You don’t respond but whip your head around towards the bar, only to find both Taeyong and the girl gone.

 

* * *

 

“Well, I don’t want to say I told you so,” Yeri says, leaning against the frame of your open door, one eyebrow raised at you. Her voice is the only reason you look up from where your forehead is firmly planted on the hard surface of your desk, your arms resting around it in an attempt to stop the horrible headache that renders you useless. “But I told you so. There was no way you would not get drunk.”

She ignores the noncommittal grunt that is your answer and walks over to place one of the mugs in her hand next to your head which has returned to its miserable position. The thud that the ceramic makes echoes in your skull and lets you sit up for good. A complaint is already on the tip of your tongue when the scent of coffee hits your nose, and you swallow your pride along with your annoyance and mutter a thanks as you reach out.

“Please tell me you at least got laid.”

“Um…” You avoid her eyes, picking up on of the pens scattered around you to twirl between your fingers as a distraction. Not that it helps, you can feel her accusatory stare burning into your profile that hides behind a curtain of unbrushed hair.

Sitting down on your bed, legs crossed, she makes herself comfortable, and you know this conversation is far from over. Time for a scolding from your far too nosy and too crass roommate. “So you are really telling me you got drunk, even though you assured me the whole day you wouldn’t so you can get some work done today, spent the night in an overcrowded bar, got brought home by a guy and still did not manage to find yourself sitting on someone's dick?”

“For fucks sake, I hate you.” She only rolls her eyes at the insult and takes a sip of her own coffee as she waits for you to go on. “Jaehyun brought me home. Like I’d end up in bed with him.”

“Okay, but consider this: Jaehyun is hot and I wouldn’t put it past you to fuck him. And you literally haven’t had sex in ages, I feel like you’ll implode soon. I mean, I see the way you started to drool anytime you see some nice abs on TV.”

“I’m not drool-”

“Also,” she doesn’t let you finish your protest, talking right over you. “You go drinking with the guys often enough, you always come home alone. So, Jaehyun actually accompanying you must mean something.”

“Firstly, I do not drool over anyone ever, thank you very much.” You send her a pointed glare that she evades by snickering into her coffee. Yes, you might have gotten a bit subjective to shirtless guys in the absence of seeing it in person for quite a while, but you have yet to stoop so low. “Secondly, guess what, my existence doesn’t revolve around sex. I can survive without having someone stick their thing inside of me. At least as long as vibrators exist. Thirdly, Jaehyun was forced to bring me home.”

“Did he lose a bet or something?”

“No, Taeyong asked him to.”

Her jaw falls down at that, eyes going wide and it’s a reaction straight out of a cartoon that you cannot help but smile over. “Wait, wait, Taeyong? Lee Taeyong? Half of the female population want to get in his pants Lee Taeyong?”

Now it’s your turn to snicker as she scrambled to find the words for her disbelieve. But it is only understandable. The infamous Taeyong, face straight out of a magazine cover and manners that surprisingly match, it’s rare to find someone not going all heart eyes over him. A bit of a lone wolf, he is usually found off to the side, mysteriously brooding, yet if stricken up a conversation, he is captivating, engaging - and apparently, quite the flirt. Most girl either want to share the night with him or already have done so. “Yup, that’s the one.”

“I didn’t know that you were close?”

“We aren’t, barely know him,” you muse. Because that’s the thing, of all the girls that want nothing more than to be with him, you are the exception. “He’s friends with Johnny so he tags along from time to time. I don’t think we even ever talked before last night.”

“But he made sure you got home safe?”

You nod, ready to drop the matter. But you should know better, with how stubborn and nosy Yeri is, this is not something you could just gloss over. So, you end up summarizing last night, telling her about the short, yet caring conversation you had with him at the bar, and the aftermath of it.

Even looking back at it now, it doesn't strike you as weird. As much as a player Taeyong seems to be, in the same breath he is still remarked as an utter gentleman. Finding a way to get you home safely does not seem out of character, and neither do you take it as a sign of interest.

Yeri, on the other hand, finds to find a lot more interest in it, deducing things from your story you did not even consider. “Well, he totally wants you. You should go for it. Especially since you are in desperate need of it.”

“Okay, but, desperate or not, I’m still not jumping into bed with anyone?”

“But he’s not anyone. It’s Taeyong, and you know him. And casual sex is your thing, right?”

“I  _ barely  _ know him, which means I might as well not know him at all.” You sigh. She is right on one hand, no matter how little you care about him, you cannot deny the fact that he is incredibly attractive. But then again, that doesn’t mean anything more than that he is pleasing to look at. Because, while yeah, you aren’t the relationship type, choosing to stay single and unattached, you do indulge in hook ups, but those never happen to be one night stands. It’s always with a good friend, purely platonic and tension release driven, no strings attached. But it needs to be a friend, someone you know well, someone you can  _ trust _ .

With an exhausted exhale, Yeri stands up, stretching her arms out in the process before turning to leave. She throws one last glance at you, and then she is gone, leaving you with your now spinning thoughts, and a headache that has only gotten worse since she first came in. “I’m just saying, there’s a chance there.”

 

* * *

Another week, another drink. It's the same as always, same run down, yet cozy place, same corner table, the same people. Yuta and Jaehyun are already there when you waltz in, half empty glasses and laughter ringing in the air. An enthusiastic yelling sound suffices as your greeting when they spot you stepping through the door frame, and a minute later you are sat down beside them.

Conversation immediately resumes, catching up over the last few days, complains about work and school, teasing jokes. It's scarily easy to talk and have fun with them, the alcohol only serving as an added bonus. You don't realize over half an hour has passed until the ones last to arrive complete your party.

"Doyoung is passing our wonderful company today because of some family reunion, or something," Johnny says as he takes the seat opposite of you, leaving out any welcoming words, but then again, you are starting to think they aren't really that common in your friend group. "I dragged Taeyong along instead, though."

The person first hidden in his shadow that you did not give a second glance to, thinking it was just Doyoung, turns out to be a bashfully smiling Taeyong. His grin widens a bit once your eyes lock and then he is awkwardly gesturing to the space next to you in an attempt to ask for your permission to sit down. You immediately scramble to move your bag out of the way, even scooting further to the side so he can make himself comfortable. He mumbles a quiet  _ thank you _ , that gets lost in the background noise of blaring blues and the rest of the boys laughing.  _ You never saw him acting shy before. _

A question is thrown in the room by Yuta, asking about what Taeyongs been up to, and the conversation goes from there. Talk about classes and part time work, private projects and mutual friends, the topics blur together, a seamless transition, and you find yourself fascinated. Not necessarily about what is being said - you could care less about Jaehyuns failed math class - but by the way Taeyong says them. He has a way to string words together, just the right intonation to precisely settle on the emotion he wants them to be said with. You think you could listen to him talk for hours on end.

It's something you become more and more aware of throughout the night, how great he is at expressing himself, and just at holding a conversation. At one point the two of you had separated from the others, leaving the table in favor of standing in a quieter corner. Neither of you had much to drink, just enough to keep your mood light, yet the words are flowing with ease, no awkwardness or stiff silences in between you. He listens attentively to every word you say, showing small reactions to your words without ever interrupting you, and asking questions when appropriate. You do the same to him, keeping eye contact as he tells you story after story.

You find out that you have quite a bit in common.

It's something you would have never even thought of, not after hearing the hushed whispers of girls that claimed to have spend the night in his bed, or those that have failed to do so. Even though all of them speak highly of him, but none make him seem so... normal,  _ human _ . Just another regular guy, with the same taste in movies and music as you, one that likes to cook and often spends evenings all cozied up in his room alone. And it makes you realize how much you treasure a good conversation partner.

"There you guys are," Yuta barges into your carefully created bubble, snapping the silent connection you had going. He doesn't seem to notice, as he keeps talking, booze having loosened the tip of his tongue, making his sounds sound a bit slurred. "We are doing shots, come on."

You let yourself get dragged back to the table where you find five small glasses filled with a clear liquid, lemon wedges balanced on top, a salt shaker and the other grinning, drunk guys.

"Okay, I am all for shots, but why does it have to be Tequila?" You sigh, letting yourself fall down on of the chairs, yet sliding on of the glasses over to you out of habit, anyway.

Jaehyun looks at you with a horrible grin that means nothing but trouble as he grabs your hand to first lick it and then pour salt onto the wet patch. "Because you are incredible fun after a couple of Tequila shots."

"So, I am guessing this won't be the only round?" Taeyong asks with a skeptical look on this face. Maybe he has the same hyper, too carefree reaction to the drink as you, or maybe he is just one of those people that prefer to keep their dignity with a shot that doesn't include licking something off your body. At least, no one has gotten the idea to lick someone else, so far.

"You got it," Johnny grin, sending a wink your way as he raises his glass to toast, the others following suit. Clinking glasses, you down your shots, faces twisting up at the mix of extreme flavours and bitter aftertaste, but it leaves behind a giddy feeling in your stomach.

It doesn't take long for the woozy buzz to spread from your stomach to the rest of your body up into your mind where it takes control, letting worries disappear and pulling mindless pleasure into the front. Especially with round two and three following only minutes later, leaving everyone a bit more flushed and cheerful than before.

Time passes, a giggly, hazy atmosphere taking over as jokes, now stuttered and slurred, fill the air, cigarettes get smoked, more glasses get drained. It all feels like a dreamlike state, maybe, just maybe, starting to border turning into a nightmare.

So you excuse yourself for a minute and make your way outside to let the chilly night air out your foggy mind. Leaning against the veneer of the bar, you take a couple deep breaths until your world has stopped spinning again. The cooler temperature helps too, letting your reddish, heated face return to normal as you keep your eyes closed.

"You okay?," a familiar voice pulls you out of your daze. Incredibly large, dark eyes right in front of yours laced with concern staring down on you, and you realize, you have seen that exact expression on that exact face a week ago.

"Yeah, just needed a breather. Thanks for checking up on me, though, Taeyong." You smile up on him, and you aren't sure if it is your inebriated state, but he seems different from earlier. Less timid and...  _ nice  _ for a lack of better words. The drunken flush and messed up hair gives him an edgier look, and as he rest his back on the wall next to you, looking up at the clear sky, you are sure you can see a smirk play around his mouth.

"Mhm, no big deal."

Silence falls over you after that, but it feels natural - just the two of you enjoying the quiet night, his shoulder next to yours, not quite touching, but knowing it’s there. You can't tell you how much time passes like that until you eventually let out a content sign, breaking the unspoken calm.

"Y/n?"

"Yeah?," you respond, allowing your head to become heavy and drop onto his shoulder to rest. He carefully itches closer, moving as little as possible as to not disturb you. His hand, that's loosely dangling next to his body, brushes yours and it feels like a spark burned your skin.

"Y/n." He seems to be aware of the electric impulse between the two of you two, your name shifting from a question to a command, and you look up to meet his eyes. Moving in a flash, he cages you in between his body and the wall, one arm next to your head propping him up. His eyes search yours for a sign of resistance, but you suddenly realize just how badly you need this. How long it's been since you felt a body against yours, how much you crave a pair of lips on your own. Your hands grab the seam of his jacket, pulling him against you.

So, he leans in, closing the distance painfully slow. You can feel him graze your lips, not yet applying any pleasure when-

"Guys, we are leaving!" Yuta interrupts the two of you once again. This time, however, he is aware of the moment he just destroyed. Taeyong jumps away from you immediately, bringing distance between the two of you as you ran your hand through your hair clumsily. Yuta awkwardly coughs in a bad attempt to dispel the obvious tension in the air.

"Um, what we were saying is," Johnny steps in as to not let the forced hush continue, "that we are leaving, if you want to come with us. You can stay, though, of course."

Shaking your head you step away from the wall and next to Johnny's tall frame, avoiding eye contact with everyone, especially Taeyong. "No, I'm going too, let's share an uber."

And so your night ends, but the feeling of Taeyong pressed against your body follows you into your dream, awakening the next morning with a strange sense of loneliness, as if your mind had tricked you into thinking you would open your eyes to someone else in you bed. There is something about Taeyong you cannot shake.

 

* * *

 

_ I’ll be there in twenty. _

You hit send, placing your phone down on your vanity as you check your make up. Swiping a tinted balm over your lips, you straighten out your appearance and go to grab a jacket to finally leave. Not that you are too concerned with the way you look, you are going to end up curled out on a couch in the dark anyway, the plan being to watch a movie.  _ Besides, it’s not a date. _

Yelling goodbye to Yeri, who only replies with  _ use a condom _ and probably a roll of her eyes, you slip out of the door making your way to the bus stop to get to Taeyong’s apartment. Having texted you a few days ago, claiming he begged Johnny to give you his number, you have kept in contact ever since, actually, there hasn’t been a day during which you didn’t talk, much to Yeri’s annoyance and joy. It has been a constant teasing each time you reached for your phone, accompanied with a strict comment by you that you don’t like him like that. He’s just fun to talk to. And then came the invite to come over to watch a movie, which you happily accepted.

So, here you are, standing in front of his door, waiting for him to open up, thumbs twiddling hesitantly. A nervous habit. Not that you are. Excited would be a more fitting word, but then again, you don’t want to let that show. Don’t want to admit that you might be affected by him in any way. But then the door opens, and your breath hitches slightly. You thought he looked good in a pair of jeans and the oversized jacket he wore in the bar, but it is safe to say he looks even better in sweatpants and messy hair.

“Hey, you made it!” He opens the further to usher you in, leaning against the wall as he waits for you to take of your shoes. “Want something do drink?”

“A glass of water would be nice.”

“Are you sure? Because I have this really nice bottle of white chilled in my fridge that I got as a present and have been wanting to try,” he replies, a smirk playing around the edges of his mouth and you let out a little laugh.

“Well, if my presence is enough of a special occasion, I am not saying no to that.”

“Great.” He smiles and disappears around a corner. Putting down your bag somewhere on the side where it isn’t about to disturb anyone, you slowly follow him to the back of his one room apartment. The furniture lining the walls, along with the carpets, are all kept very discreet, simple shades of black and grey giving the whole room a very modern and chic appearance. It’s bordering on being cold, even, if it weren’t for the pictures, book and plants taking up free spaces, bringing a personal, lived in touch to it. But the most impressive thing is that it is  _ spotless _ , everything in its place and not a speck of dust to be found. You wonder if he cleaned up for you or if he actually is that tidy.

You find him hovering over the kitchen counter, struggling with the bottle opener, and you decide to settle on the tiny breakfast bar that rounds of the kitchen area, and what seems to be a compromise of the missing dining table. “Your place is really nice, I like it.”

“Ah, thank you,” he replies, turning around with a now open bottle and two glasses in hand. “I got super lucky with it, actually. It got renovated fairly recently, but the rent isn’t that high. Here you go.”

He hands you one of the glasses, and holds his own out to clink it together. You give a toast and taste the pearl liquid. It’s quite strong for a wine, but it tastes sweet with a fruity aftertaste - you don’t doubt it must have been on the more expensive side. “Mhm, it’s good.”

Agreeing, he takes another sip before settling his glass down. “So, what do you want to watch? Still up for ‘Howl's Moving Castle’?”

Right, the movie. The reason you are here. Somehow during one of your texting sessions, you revealed to have never seen his favorite movie, leaving him in shock and with a desire to fix just that. Which lead him to invite you to watch it because he wanted to make sure you actually see it, and also to gauge your reaction. “Yeah, sure.”

“Let’s settle on the bed then? Sorry, I don’t have a couch to offer,” he mumbles and laughing, you follow his order, taking your glass with you to place it on the bedside table. The bed is carefully made and it nearly seems a shame to destroy the setting with you sitting on it, but you quickly shake that thought out of your head and lay down on the fluffed up pillows. You are faintly aware how intimate it is, you being on his bed, knowing you could bury your nose in the bedding and indulge in his smell, letting yourself take up his personal, private space. But then you are reminded by how many girls probably already had the pleasure of being here before you, and weirdly enough, it makes you feel better.

While you make yourself comfortable, he hooks up his laptop to the TV standing on a small table at the end of the bed, starting up the movie while drawing the curtains to dim the light. Once he is happy with the volume adjustment, he comes to sit down next to you. It’s a bit of an awkward situation, you not sure if you can let yourself slump against him, he not sure if he can put his arm around you. You settle for hugging a pillow instead, and he clears his throat as he crosses his arms in front of his chest.

Yet, once the film gains momentum, sucking you in it’s homey, warm atmosphere, the two of you naturally melt together, your head ending on his chest and his hand resting on your waist. His scent fills your nostrils, clean cotton with an undertone of a heavier musk mixed in. It’s nice, persistent but not overbearing, and it makes you want to itch closer to him, make yourself smell like him. 

Maybe, he can read your thoughts, because his grip tightens, bringing you against him in a tighter embrace. You smile into his shirt and bring your own hand up to rest against his chest, firm under your touch.

The movie progresses, Howl gaining courage, Sophie turning younger again and the Witch of the Waste becoming a harmless grandma. The two of you stay cuddled up, saved for the times you reach out for your glasses that empty and refill again. By the time the credits roll, the bottle is finished.

“How did you like it?” He asks, the monitor having gone dark, but neither of you attempting to get up yet.

“It was really cute.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hum, neck craning to look up at him. His hair brushes into his eyes, making his features look softer than usual, but the smirk - the same damn smirk that he wore before he tried to kiss you last time - is ruining all traces of innocence. The hand not on your waist comes to cup your jaw, making sure you keep your face towards him as he slowly leans down, and you immediately close your eyes and pucker up, waiting.

Only he never closes the distance. When you reopen your eyes, you find him staring at you with a amused expression, mischief prominent in his eyes. The aura around him has changed, a cold edge to him now that burns just as much as fire would, and suddenly you have no problem understanding how easily it is for him to find someone to fuck.

But before the thought of how obvious he made it just how desperate you are for him, before you get to complain, he swoops down and swallows you whole. He easily maneuvers your body so you are sitting on top of him, straddling his thighs, chests pressed together. His lips are plush and soft, moving against yours in languid motions that leave you wanting more.

He waits for you to let out a small whine before finally swiping his tongue over your bottom lip, asking you to open up and letting him explore your mouth.  You agree all too easily, and you hear him chuckle at your willingness.

But somehow, this little laugh of him flips a switch in you. You are not going to be another toy he plays with for the night to discard later on. Oh no, you are going to give him a run for his money, challenge him as well.

So, you sneak your hands into his hair, pulling at the silky strands and bite down on his bottom lip, eliciting a surprised moan from him.

Grinning, you pull his head back, placing wet kisses along his jaw and down his neck, enjoying the way you can feel his chest rise and fall with labored breaths. He doesn’t let you continue for too long, though, flipping the two of you over. His body weight presses you into the mattress, and you hold onto his shoulders to keep him close as his mouth is on yours again.

He breaks away for a quick moment, pulling his shirt over his head and discarding it somewhere in a corner. You immediately let your hands wander over the freshly exposed skin, exploring the way his muscles move under your touch. His own hands glide along the outline of your body over and over again, as if he is trying to commit them to memory. They creep underneath your shirt, his thumb tracing the underside of your bra, until you get too frustrated with the shy touches. Pushing him away you get rid of both, the shirt and bra, and he wastes no time letting his mouth and tongue run over your chest.

The combination of his warm breath on the wet traces he leaves draws constant sighs out of you, back arching further into his ministrations. His fingers come to undo the button of your jeans, dragging the stiff fabric down far enough until you can kick them off fully. Settling in between your thighs again, he lets his mouth drag down further this time, kissing down your stomach until his nose is rubbing against your still underwear covered clit.

Pulling the offending clothing to the side, his tongue peaks out to lick over your slit and your hands immediately come to grab his hair as a moan escapes you. His fingers spread you open, releasing the wetness trapped there that is now mixing with his saliva as his tongue circles around your sex, slowly closing in on your swollen bud.

It doesn’t take long for you to start squirming, and he has to grip your hips to keep them still, but not before he finally gets rid of your underwear, giving him full access. A mix of swirling circles, teasing flicks and broad stripes soon has you a breathless mess that is gripping the blanket underneath you for dear life. Broken moans of his name are lacing themselves in between your sighs as he starts sucking, lips wrapped around your clit, tongue still not letting up as it flicks harshly.

You can feel the tight knot forming somewhere deep in your gut, winding itself further up with each lick and stroke, your muscles tightening and back arching. Taeyong's fingers dig into the dip of your hip bones with an iron grip - you wouldn’t be surprised if you wake up to bruises tomorrow. But then he shifts position, letting on arm sneak around your waist to keep you where he wants you, while the other comes down to join his mouth. His fingers probe at your entrance, and you can tell he enjoys how wet you are for him as a string spans between his fingers when he spreads them apart.

“Taeyong, please, stop teasing,” you say, somehow managing to bring the words out in between labored breaths. You can feel him grinning against your core, but he is nice enough to follow your plead, two fingers finding their way into you and letting a mewl fall from your lips.

Your sounds soon turn into staccato moans as he speeds up, pumping in and out of you, occasionally curling them. His tongue is still going hard, restless in his approach to make you cum, and it’s working. You are walking the silver edge, so incredibly close to tilting over. He knows it, too, your moans that are spiraling higher and higher a good indication, and with one finally curl of his fingers he pushes you over.

Jaw going slack and torso darting up, a silent scream chokes you up. You are tightening and tightening around his hand, thighs coming together and trapping him - not like he seems to mind. He keeps his rhythm going, milking out every reaction out of you to fuel the white bliss that you are drowning in.

It takes a couple dozen seconds before you starting calming down again, gasping for air. He pulls away from you with a huge smirk, licking your remains of his lips, but his chin is still glistening with them. You reach down, brushing his hair out of his face as he comes back up to kiss your lips. With his hips pressing on top of yours, you feel his hard dick pressing against his sweatpants, and you don't care how tired out you are, you want to feel him inside you.

Your hips grind into him on reflex, and you feel his breath that hits your neck hitch. He rolls off you, getting a condom from the bedside table, and standing up to rid himself of his clothes. Stretching out on the bed, you watch him strip, watch the bulge prominent in his boxers, that he quickly steps out of. His cock is flushed red, and you see Taeyongs jaw clench as he grabs it to put on the condom.

Grabbing his arm, you pull him back down the second he is done, not wanting to wait any longer for him. He twists his shoulders as to make himself hover above you, but you react quicker, pushing him down and straddling his thighs. You push your hips upwards, letting his dick slide between your folds, flinching slightly as it rubs against your oversensitive clit.

He has given over control, looking up at you from underneath his lashes, irises blown wide and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Smirking, you lift yourself up, aligning his member with your entrance, slowly sinking down on him. A groan escaped him as his hands fly up to grab your hips, fingers digging into your skin. Your own come to rest on his thighs, torso tilted backwards so you can easily roll your hips as you ride him.

You can tell he tries hard to stay calm, to keep himself from bucking up and fucking you senseless, but at the same time, he enjoys you doing all the work. With his eyes closed and lips pink and swollen from all the biting and kissing, he looks like a piece of art. Something that should be eternalized in a renaissance painting, a face sculpted by the great masters themselves.

And then there are the noises, breathless sighes and rough, hoarse moans that mix with your own whines and the slick sounds of him slipping in and out of you, all echoing in the open space of his apartment. It spurs you on even more, ignoring the strain in your thighs as you keep your rhythm, keep your speed, keep riding that heightened edge that is left over from your earlier orgasm.

But then you slip up, slowing down as you arch your back further, and he snatches back the dominance. The grip he has on you tightens as he starts fucking up into you, fingers sneaking to rub over your clit, and you slump forwards, hands now resting on his chest, nails clawing into the skin to keep your upright as he overwhelms you.

You don’t even hold out a full minute. Setting off your second orgasm, this time everything in you goes limb, you are nothing but a boneless ragdoll in his grip as you pulse around him, every nerve in you on fire with pleasure. But he keeps going, keeps you in that state until you are burning up, a broken sound resembling his name what finally sets off his own orgasm.

He pulls you down, holds you tight as his muscles flex and his hips buck up, now without rhyme or rhythm. Your head is buried in the crook of his neck, while his hands brush lightly over your back in soothing circles. The two of you are sweaty and reek of sex, both too hot for all the close contact, but it feels nice, comfortable, just right to come back down from the high. You can feel him go flaccid, still inside you, but still neither of you get up just yet.

Only when your hearts beat at a normal rhythm again do you get out of the embrace. You excuse yourself to the bathroom, throwing your shirt back on the way, glad that the seam hits the top of your thighs, making you feel less indecent, while he rids himself of the condom and cleans up. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, cheeks flushed and makeup smudged, you feel a weird sensation in your stomach.

_ You fucked Taeyong. _ It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? The impossible idea that Yeri planted in your head, that grew from there into an independent thought, into something that you actually craved. But now you are just one of many, one of all the girls that did just that, that drool over him, that whisper about his charms once he left the room. Are you going to end up like that too? Was this a one time thing? Will your texting now cease to be after tonight, an awkward mood in the air when he joins your usual weekend drinking round?

No, not now. This is not an issue to worry about right now, not an issue to worry about at all. You can sort your thoughts out later, can just let time take its course. Splashing a bit of cold water on your face, you cool down, calm down, and make your way back into the bedroom.

Taeyong leans against the kitchen counter, back in his sweats, yet still shirtless - you can see the red streaks that your nails left on his chest. He drink a glass of water, when he spies you offering you one as well. While he fills your glass, you fully dress yourself, running your hands through your hair to comb it and sort it out.

It’s silent, none of you daring to speak, but it’s not as awkward as you expected it to be. You can feel his eyes on you as you down half of the glass, your dehydrated body aching for the water. The way he hovers next you reminds you of the moment outside of the bar, just the two of you sharing a space with something unsaid lingering between.

You wonder what that could be.   
  


* * *

 

 

The cool september night breeze is a nice change from the stuffy air you just escaped from. With a booze filled plastic cup in hand you lean on the porch railing, light from the crowded house flooding the lawn that throughout the night became littered with empty cups and cigarette stubs. You don’t envy the poor soul that has to clean up the mess tomorrow.

“Found you,” Yeri murmurs before you hear the glass door slide closed again, and her familiar figure taking up the empty space next to you. Glancing over at her, legs wobbling sightly in the thin heels, the hair messier than you remember it being when you left, and the pink on her lips smudged, you raise an eyebrow. You don’t need to voice the question out loud for her to answer, the guilty grin and the nonchalant waving of her hand confirmed that wherever she disappeared to earlier, it wasn’t on her own. “What are you sulking out here on your own?”

“Needed some fresh air and an escape from an annoyingly clingy-drunk Johnny.” With perfect timing you can hear him laugh somewhere in the background, too loud and too excessive, probably over something unfunny as well. It causes both Yeri and you to giggle.

“Have you talked to Taeyong?”

“Not today, no. Should I?” You look at her, wary. It’s been nearly two whole months since you went to his place for the first time, but not the last time you ended up in his bed. Wordlessly, the two have slipped into this dynamic, his friendship and his body have become all too familiar, yet Yeri’s worry has not yet come true. Feelings aren’t involved.

After the first time, having gone home right after, Yeri had easily guessed what had happened, and wouldn’t leave you alone until you agreed to tell her all the details. Maybe, you had used a few too many dreamy adjectives to describe him, maybe it was her knowledge of what other girls had told her about him, but the grim expression on her face wouldn’t budge - not even for the juicy details you were spilling.

She ended up warning you, reminding you of how you did not fall for people easily, how you did not long for a relationship which made casual sex so easy for you, and why that was so dangerous with Taeyong. Because you did not expect to fall for him, you did not want to fall for him, and that is exactly why you would, and it will hit you hard, leaving you with a broken heart that is entirely your own fault because you knew from the get-go that Taeyong is the last person to settle down.

You had dismissed her, assuring her that none of it would become true. Independent till last, the thought of romance did not cross your mind with him once. It was sex, no strings attached, and it always would be, that much you were sure of.

“I don’t know if you should, but apparently he has been looking for you,” she says, sloshing around her drink. You are reminded of your own, slightly forgotten as you had sunken deep into your own inner monologue, taking a big gulp and enjoying how the vodka mix burns down your throat. “Why would he even be looking for you? It’s not like there are a billion people that could blow him at this party.”

“Thank you for implying that he only enjoys my dick sucking abilities, and not my actual company,” you reply with a sharp tongue, sarcasm lining the edges of your tone. Emptying your cup, you turn around. “And I don’t know why he’d be searching for me, maybe he just wants to say hi. I mean, we are friends after all. Also, I’m going to get myself another drink.”

“You went from one conversation to bed buddies, I am sorry that I doubt your underlying friendship here.” You just scoff at her words, pushing your body away from the railing. Following suit, Yeri downs her own drink, a clear statement that this conversation is not over and she is escorting you into the kitchen of this house party. “Listen, I don’t trust him. Did I hype you up for a one night stand? Hell yeah. But you don’t know how many rumours there are of him breaking girls hearts,  _ deliberately _ . He knows what he is doing, getting close to you and all that. You are setting yourself up to get hurt.”

“Oh please, Yeri, I’m not a heart eyed idiot. I won’t get hurt because I literally don’t care,” you say maybe a little too harshly. Yeri has done nothing wrong, she is just looking out for you, but you feel like a child getting talked down to about having tried to touch the hot stove. “He can fuck every single person in this house, and I would not be bothered, we aren’t exclusive. Hell, even if he blocks me and never talks to me again, sure, I’d be a little taken aback but I would get over it without much fuzz? There are no feelings involved.”

“Okay, okay, I trust you.” She raises her hands in defense, finally dropping the topic. She must have sensed your frustration by how hard you set down the Vodka bottle, the dull thump heard clearly, even through the booming music. “On another note, have you seen how good Ten looks today?”

“Um, haven’t seen him yet, I think. Wait, did you two…?”

“What? No! It wasn’t Ten! I just mean, he’s been checking you out all night, I just thought I’d let you know.”

“So, you are on my ass all night because of Taeyong, and then suddenly send me into someone else's arms?”

Grinning, she shrugs before idly walks out of the kitchen, making sure to walk past Ten who is chatting with someone in the corner of the room. Nipping at you drink, you absentmindedly stare at him, the way his black hair is carefully styled out of his face, and the way his clothes hang of his frame. Yeri was right, he does look good, especially with the smirk that he has on his face right now as he seems to be telling a story.

His eyes snap up to meet yours - he probably felt your stare - and he smiles at you, a nice, friendly one, not the cocky grin he wore a second ago, and you return it. And then he is excusing himself, making his way over to you.

“Hey,” he greets, eyes dark and sparkling. There is always an air of mischief around him, fun and light, always riding the edge of getting into trouble. It is impossible to dislike him.

You start chatting, catching up about what happened in your life since the last time you ended talking at a party, or in a bar, or wherever - it just included alcohol. Ten was one of those people, somewhere between friend and acquaintance. Well known enough to draw out a smile at the mention of his name, but unfamiliar enough to not know his phone number, not know how to hit him up at any other time. But he is always spotted at every party and every event.

And it’s always fun talking to him. Always a joke on his lips, always bordering on the edge of flirting. But today, today he is more on the offense. Words dripping with honey and a sultry glint in his eyes, he claims your presence in this lonely kitchen corner. You play along, giggling at his words, your arm brushing against him. It’s shameless and cliche, and it’s easy. Not even sure if you are just playing or serious, it doesn’t even matter, you let him cage you against the counter. Drunk foolishness, you lean in and kiss him.

He reciprocates, lips moving languidly against yours, a hand coming to grab your ass and you sigh into the kiss. You are very aware that you are making out unabashedly in public, that anyone could walk in on your indecency, but the vodka in your system is encouraging and the overall mood is hazy. It feels good to let go, like a high school student at her very first party. And Ten’s lips are soft, his body warm and his touch firm. You no longer care who watches you.

But, still, you cannot shake the feelings of eyes on you, it’s letting the baby hairs in your nape rise. Opening your eyes, you let them glide through the room, finding none other than Taeyong lean against the door frame of the otherwise empty kitchen, arms crossed in front of his chest as he stares at you. A couple seconds pass, the two of you just looking at each other, you still kissing Ten who is unaware of the situation, before Taeyong turns around and leaves, a certain tenseness in his shoulders and jutted jaw.

It leaves a bittersweet taste behind, seeing him storm out like that.

 

* * *

 

“He hasn’t texted me back all day,” you announce, plopping down onto the couch where Yeri is spread out, watching a rom-com to help her suffer through her hangover.  She groans at your loud voice, but is nice enough to lift her legs to make space for you anyway - or maybe she just wanted to use your lap as a resting place for them.

“He’s probably dying, just like me,” she says. Her hair is a mess and you see dark shadows lining her eyes, and yeah, she does look like she’s in pain. “I mean, after all the shots we took.”

“Yeah, he’s a lightweight,” you murmur, thinking about how he is always the first to slow down, the first to demand a water in between. It’s quite funny considering how much it clashes with his image. “Wait..., ‘we’?”

“Mhm, a bit after I ditched you I ended up with Mark and Jaehyun. Taeyong joined.” She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, reaching for the popcorn bowl on the table. But before she pops the handful into her mouth, she hesitates, as if wanting to add something, deciding against it the very last minute. You stayed silent, eyes idly following the figures on the TV screen.

It took a couple minutes before she spoke up again. “Did you really make out with Ten?”

Letting out a hum as a confirmation, you stole some of the popcorn from her, slowly eating one at a time. You haven’t told her about it yet, but Johnny saw you, and already send you a bunch of teasing texts (you only replied with an emoji, flipping him off). You have no doubts that he didn’t keep it a secret, letting the word spread to all of your friends. It must have trickled down to her, as well.

“Oh.”

“Oh?  _ Oh _ ? What is it with you, pushing me towards guys and then getting weird when I actually follow your advice lately?” You turn to look at her, eyebrows raised. It’s so unlike her, she is usually the one spurring you on, encouraging to take the risk, wanting to know every little detail after. Her lack of curiosity, or maybe rather, her lack of positive reaction worries you. “First you got all worried that I’ll fall in love with Taeyong, and now you are weird about Ten.”

“It’s not like that, I just…” She trails off and takes a deep breath, as if she needs to gather her thoughts, arrange her words, before continuing. “Taeyong mentioned something about you sucking face with Ten and I don’t know, I didn’t think you’d actually do it. Maybe because I did actually think you had feelings for Taeyong even if you were denying it. But I got it wrong, okay? I got it completely wrong.”

“I told you I didn’t like h-”

“Y/n, I know. And I am sorry for not believing you. But honestly, my head is killing me so can we please just continue this conversation later when I am less in pain and not as likely to bitch at you?”

“Yeah, sure. Sorry.”

Silence falls over you again as you watch the on-screen couple fall in love, everything so sweet and happy and perfect. Her words replay in your head -  _ I got it completely wrong _ -, confusing you. There’s something else there that she refuses to tell you, and you can’t imagine what it would be. It’s connected to last night, sure, but the only possible option that you could think of is that she got it the wrong way  _ around _ . You might not have fallen for Taeyong, heartbreaker extraordinaire, a charming player that seems too trustworthy to doubt, the one that never gets attached, but that somehow, he has fallen for you.

It seems absurd, impossible even. Why would he fall for you out of all people? A dumb thought - but then again, it makes sense, doesn’t it? The way his body tensed as he saw you with Ten, a jealous rage making him leave the room, going to find Mark and Jaehyun to blow of some steam. Telling them about what he just saw, Yeri there too, hearing every word. And then knocking back shots to no end when he isn’t much of a drinker in the first place.

It all fits so well.

And it fills you with a sense of pride, weirdly enough. The fact that you were the one to make him fall, to dethrone the king of no emotions, there is a satisfaction in that. One that you cannot quite grasp nor fully understand, but it certainly makes you want to feel it again and again. See the way he clenches his fists and squares his shoulders, as you smirk at him from behind another guys chest. To have him wrapped around your finger.

“Hey, Yeri, one more question. When Taeyong joined you guys last night, did he seem … mad?”

Maybe, you could not fully hid the amusement in your voice, because the look she sends you is irritated, as if something about the way you said it irks her. But she slowly nods, furrowing her eyebrows in a way that you know means she is recalling the moment in her mind. “Yeah, kind of. Jaehyun seemed taken aback, too, especially because it was Taeyong that asked for the drinks. Why?”

“Nah, nothing. Was just curious.” Just in time your phone vibrates in your pocket. You take it out and can’t stifle the laugh, that sounds too much like a cackle. Yeri just sends you a pointed glare, having sensed your change in demeanor. 

_ Lee Taeyong _ _   
_ _ hey, sorry for the late reply. i’m good. do you have time later today? _

 

* * *

 

Your heart is pounding against your ribcage, reverberating in every single bone in your body. The spot between your legs is throbbing, and its slickness has spread down your thighs, even down to stain the bed sheets, sticky and uncomfortable, but you are too exhausted to get up. Taeyong lies next to you in a similar state, eyes closed. You watch his chest rise and fall with each deep breath he takes.

You are back at his place. Of course you are, it’s become one of your favourite places to be, and his lack of roommates makes it ideal for your arrangement. Nothing to explain, no one to consider, no interruptions - always just the two of you.

Unless someone else is occupying your mind, and it seems like Taeyong isn’t alone in his thoughts. The way his grip was a little tighter, his thrusts a little more forceful, how he tried to please you even more today. It all seemed like he had something to prove. Yes, you are clinging to your theory, a jealous Taeyong trying to keep you by his side. So far, it just seemed to have proven true, his fists clenching as you talked about last night’s party.

He didn’t mention anything to you, no word lost about Ten, but you can tell he is thinking about it.

So, here you are, in his bed, his taste still on your tongue, the memories of his touch still warming your skin, and your heartbeat returning to a normal pace. It’s your sign to leave, like you always do. The textbook fuckbuddies, no cuddling, no staying overnight, no kisses outside of the bedroom. But today is different, today (or maybe last night) something shifted. Because when you roll out of bed, reaching for your clothes to get dressed, he stretches out his hand, stopping you. “You don’t have to go, you know?”

Turning around to him, he lays there, eyes wide and almost begging. _ You don’t have to go, you know? We don’t have to keep doing this, you know? I can be yours, you know?  _ The simple question is anything but that, and you are not sure how to react.

He senses your hesitation, but what has already been said, cannot be taken back, so he does the next back thing. “I mean, it’s really late and the weather is shit, so you can stay for the night if you want to. I don’t want you to get sick or something.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you murmur, letting yourself sink back onto the bed. “I guess I can stay.”

It’s stiff, awkward, the air between you, everything it hasn’t been before. Where you had just shared warmth and kisses, skin searing with each others touch, no inch left unexplored, you are now painfully aware of how close he is. How, if you spread your fingers, your hands will touch, how his weight dips the soft mattress, how you both smell of each other.

Damp sweat still sticks to your skin. You usually hopped in the shower first thing once you got back home, but now you are here, feeling trapped, and it feels so uncomfortable, so suffocating.

“Hey, um, do you mind if I shower real quick?” You ask him, and he shakes his head, quiet. As if he had not only swallowed his tongue, but his pride as well. It’s not a good look on him, you realize, the humiliated, beaten down boy.

He grabs you some towels, hands it to you along with a clean shirt and underwear of his, quickly explaining the shower mechanism. And then he leaves you to yourself. As you scrub yourself clean under the stream of water, you carefully inspect your body, rubbing at each scratch and mark you can blame Taeyong for, as if damned. It feels too intimate being in his shower, using his soap, smelling more like him than you ever did before. His clothes do not help.

But deep down, a warm feeling comes with the situation, you using his products, wearing his clothes, sleeping in his bed. That’s new, for him too. Other girls don’t get to do this, other girls don’t get this attention, this treatment.

Letting your hair down and brushing it out, you look at yourself in the fogged up mirror.  _ Taeyong is a good look on you _ . As uncomfortable it all first made you, his clothes fit you well, you even deem yourself cute in them. Especially with the blush that has tinted your cheeks.

Stepping back out into the living space, you find him sitting at the kitchen counter, phone in hand. He is still shirtless, and as always, you spy the scratches you left on his shoulder blades. Hearing your bare feet tap on the floor, he turns around with a bashful grin, but he bares a bit more confidence that he did earlier. Excusing himself, he brushes by you and disappears the bath you just left. You hear the shower turn back on right after.

Taking your phone out of your bag, you let Yeri know you won’t be coming home, but yes, you are fine, explanation will follow later. After that you turn it off, saving some battery for tomorrow. You make your way back to the bed, surprised to see its sheets and bedding changed. Sliding underneath the blanket, you breath in the clean smell of laundry detergent. It mixes well with Taeyongs scent that clings to you, and strangely, it comforts you.  _ This could smell like home. _ You quickly shake off that thought.

Taeyong doesn’t take long, hair haphazardly rubbed dry with a towel, remaining slightly damp and standing up in every direction. He looks at you, curled up and waiting for him to return, and he cannot help a small smile. Turning of the lights, he joins you, but is cautious enough to not come close, making sure he isn’t touching you. You know, your hesitation, your shocked reaction to his plea, it hurt him deeply.

So he lays next to you on his back, while you are turned away from him. You doubt it’s the position he usually falls asleep in. At least he is honest in his failure, he isn’t pretending to fall asleep right away, no matter how amicable and nonchalant he seems, his thoughts are racing on how to act from now on. The restlessness is radiating of him, but he keeps still, gives you to the room to fall asleep, stays quiet as to not to disturb you too much.

It’s ridiculous of him to think you could just rest without a worry when he is next to you, mentally twisting and turning. It feels wrong, anyway, after all the sex, all the grabbing and pulling each other close, to be in his bed and have him so far away. So really, it’s just instinct that you roll over and use his chest as a pillow, hand next to your cheek, feeling his heartbeat. The way he flinches is a clear indication that he did not expect this, didn’t expect you to come close. But, even with hesitation, he places a hand on your waist, the other brushes over your hair. You let out a content sigh.

You fall asleep like that, in his arms, and you don’t think you have rested that well in a long time.

 

* * *

 

 

“You are a bitch, you are aware of that, right?” Her tone is harsh, and you can tell just how mad Yeri is by how she won’t even look at you. Each time she does, she flinches, as if it’s unbearable, as if you are some kind of monster. “You are such a fucking bitch, I never expected this from you.”

Sitting on one end of the couch, you watch her circle the living room as she fires her insults at you. You sit quiet for now, taking it all. You’ll start arguing once she becomes a bit more reasonable. “Yeri, calm down.”

“No, I am not calming down. Someone needs to be mad at you and curse you out. How dare you fucking play with his feelings like that?”

Maybe you shouldn’t have told her, shouldn’t have mentioned how he obviously was in love with you, how desperate he was to keep you close, how you got off of it. The power, the control, the way he’s wrapped around your finger. And how you ended up sleeping over, ended up giving in.

The next morning was a little awkward - at least for you. You stayed for breakfast, Taeyong being a surprisingly good cook and whipping up some of the best pancakes you ever had. But before all of that, you woke up still wrapped in his arms, his face buried in the crook of your neck, breath fanning over your skin. You had thought about sneaking out, sending him a thank you text later, but you stirring in his arms made him wake up as well. He kissed you good morning.

After that, you couldn’t just leave. So, you let him cook, and you let him talk, and you let him kiss you goodbye once you finally found a reason to excuse yourself.

“I’m not playing with-”

“The hell you are! Don’t you fucking dare deny this. You said it yourself, you get excited having him be your little lap dog, but you have no desire to actually commit to him. That is the definition of playing with his feelings.”

“No,” you sigh, and she sends a glare at you just for even talking back. She is leaning on the kitchen counter now, making herself a tea, but you doubt it will do much to soothe her anger. “I would be playing with his feelings if I were to flirt with others in front of him, try to make him jealous and all that.”

“What about Ten, huh?”

“That was before I even knew he liked me!” Now you feel your own anger rising, because she should know that better than you. She was the one that pushed you towards Ten, and now she is flipping the blame on you? You don’t care if Yeri is made at you, don’t care what profanities she hauls at you, but you won’t let her lie. “Why do you even care so much? You barely know him, and everytime you did mention him, it was accompanied with a snarky comment about how much he hoes around.”

Her hair whips around as she turns to face you, eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t know, maybe because I have some goddamn empathy? Or maybe, I just can’t believe you stooped so fucking low. Taeyong is in love with you, actually has been for quite some time, and you failed to care or maybe even notice.”

“You know, what I think,” you say, a cold, arrogant smile around your lips as you push yourself up from where you were sitting to stroll over to her. “is, that you marked Taeyong as this devil, this beautiful fallen angel that you think will ruin everyone that interacts with him. That getting close to him is playing with fire, but guess what, I wasn’t the one to get burned. And now your little theory is ruined and you can’t handle that, so now you shift the blame on me. I didn’t do shit, we set up rules when we started and he was the one to break them, not me. He fucked it all up, and I am just trying to salvage what I can.”

“I can’t fucking believe you.” Yeri looks at you, her mouth slightly agape but there is ice in her eyes that bites and burns, and not ever has she looked at you with such a pure disgust and hatred before. “You know, I always thought your  _ oh I don’t really fall in love, I don’t want a relationship _ schtick was some weird kind of defense mechanism, or maybe you just didn’t meet the right person yet, but turns out, you are just a  _ heartless  _ bitch. What else is part of your argument? That I am secretly in love with Taeyong, too, and that is why I am mad? Or that I am jealous because you got his attention and I didn’t? Go on, do your thing if you are oh so innocent and above all feelings. Go and burn your bridges, seems like you are good at it. I don’t care.”

You two stare at each other for a bit, waiting for the other to react, to have the last word. But no one does, and she shoves you to the side and storms out, leaving you standing in the kitchen with clenched fists and a feeling of guilt, regret and doom already bubbling in your stomach. Angry tears are prickling in the corners of your eyes, and you hastily wipe them away, too prideful to cry.

You are at a loss on what to do, because you know Yeri is right. What you are doing to Taeyong isn’t fair, you’ve known that since you first realized he might have feelings for you. No strings attached, the number one rule. He should have ended your arrangement, but maybe he thought it was more than just sex for you, too. Just as he never actually confessed, you never turned him down either. There is always hope lingering, isn’t it?

Guilt was weighing you down from the beginning, but you didn’t want to admit that. Hearing Yeri yell your own thoughts at you, you just lashed out. You couldn’t do anything but lash out, and you hate yourself for it. Because Yeri is right, she always is in situations like these, even if she is harsher than necessary, often riling you up as well. Your shoulders slump forwards as the tension caused by anger yields to defeated conceit, you become aware of all the apologies you owe.

Hearing a rustling sound behind you, you turn around to find Yeri still lingering in the hallway, cup of tea in hand and eyes turned to the floor. You look at her with contrite eyes, an apology already heavy on your tongue but she slightly shakes her head, before the words can ever leave you lips. “You should really go have an honest talk with Taeyong.”

 

* * *

  
  


You did talk.

Calling him up, you agreed on grabbing a coffee in a small coffee shop not too far from his apartment. With fidgeting hands that spun around the paper cup in your hands you crushed the hopeful look in his eyes as you laid out your truth.  _ I am sorry, we can’t keep doing this. I think it was a mistake. I hope there are no harsh feelings between us. _ Simple, straightforward, no use in skirting around the topic for too long.

He had simply nodded, a smile on his face that nearly succeeded to hide the hurt in his eyes, and until you had emptied your drinks your conversation was focused on trivial things only. A pleasant talk that might be shared between old friends that have grown apart. A depressed mood settled over you.

There was a moment right before you left in which you shared a silence, holding each others gazes.

_ This is it, isn’t it? _

_ I think so, yes. I can’t bear to just stay your friend, it’s no longer enough for me. _

_ I am sorry it had to be this way. _

_ I’ll get over you, just please, keep your distance to let me heal. _

Smiles were exchanged, and you both left to go your own way. Yeri was incredible proud of you - you had apologized to her profusely and all harsh feelings were forgiven again. Of course, it’s going to be something that you will get teased about years down the road, but you think you can happily live with that if it means Yeri is staying a constant in your life.

She explained some of her knowledge about it all, too, having gotten a little too involved with Mark, the guy she disappeared at the party with. After Taeyong drowned himself in his misery, she helped him get the poor guy home safely and Mark, in his own inebriation, has run his mouth, telling Yeri about how you had caught Taeyong’s eye long before but how he had never dared to make a move as you never had shown  _ interest  _ in anyone. She had misjudged his character greatly, too. Through Mark she realized he isn’t the cold hearted player she thought him to be, and it really got to her. Seeing you act the way that was, in her mind, stereotypical for him, made her extremely angry. It was the worst timing, she achingly realized, to push you into another guys arms, but there was nothing she could do but have faith in you.

Having heard all of that, you just decided to put the whole ordeal behind you. You needed to distress, so the open invitation by your usual weekend drinking crowd came perfectly. Greeted with the usual lack of greeting, you have a face splitting grin on as you join your friends, toasting with a drink, which turns into two, which turns into many.

Yuta and Jaehyun are the same cheery bunch as usual, but in between the laughter, you could feel Johnny’s eyes on you, heavy and criticizing - being one of Taeyongs closest friends, there is no way he didn’t know about what happened.

To a degree, the others do too. You never disclosed your type of relationship, but they all saw you suddenly get closer to him, saw the way you left a little too little space between you when you sat next to each other, saw how you exchanged quick glances, how you left at the same time. You weren’t exactly secretitive. Not that it bothered anyone.

“Hey, Johnny, do you know why Taeyong didn’t come out tonight? He brushed me of pretty quickly earlier.” Yuta asks, and your gaze turns to the floor, a warmth spreading in your face. You didn’t even think about how Taeyong has become a fixed part of your little group, that, of course, they would invite him, too. And you basically forced him to stay home. Even if you try to keep your distance to him, you still end up hurting him apparently.

“I think he isn’t feeling well or something. Nothing deep,” he answers casually, but you can feel his gaze burning into you, doing nothing to ease your mortification. But the answer is wordlessely accepted by the others, and the topic of Taeyong falls under the table, allowing you to feel normal again. But while the others stop talking about him, he stays on your mind. Everything that is said, you relate back to him, you can practically hear how he would answer, what he would joke about.

You cannot get a rest from him like you hoped to.

The alcohol doesn’t help, blurring your individual thoughts until the only thing is  _ him, him, him,  _ and when Johnny asks you if you are okay, you ask him to step outside with you for a second. You end up standing on the exact spot that Taeyong tried to kiss you in - which isn’t helping your brain functioning, now the memory of his lips on yours on replay - and Johnny just looks at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for you to speak first.

“I… I can’t get him out of my head, Johnny. I am so fucking confused, I don’t know what to do.” You turn to face him and his unreadable expression, he’s leaning against the wall with crossed arms, looking down on you. You expect him to say something in return but he doesn’t, he just keeps staring at you, making you fill the silence instead. “I thought after talking to him this would stop. I called everything quits, but he is still there. Whatever I think about, whatever topic, Taeyong is always the end thought. It’s absolutely ridiculous. I can’t stand this.”

“Y/n, you are honestly so dumb.”

“W-What do you mean?”

He laughs at your wide eyed stare, completely oblivious to the obvious you just stated. “You shut him down because he got attached but here you are literally daydreaming about him. Y/n, you are head over heels for that boy.”

“I’m not, I can’t be…,” you mumble, hand running through your hair in distress. Your vision is zooming in, narrowing down after Johnny’s words, and you feel your eyes water. “This isn’t supposed to happen, this isn’t a thing, no.”

“Fine, okay, let’s do it this way.” He sighs and rolls his eyes, and your lips press together, forming a thin line. “Why did you agree to become his fuckbuddy in the first place? And don’t tell me you were that desperate because we both know you’d have tried to get it on with one of us.”

“I-, … okay, true. Um, he was charming. And polite, like when he made Jaehyun take care of me even though he barely knew me. It was so thoughtful of him. And he’s also really funny, and great to talk to. I could probably listen to him for hours, he’s so great to talk to. We have a lot in common too. And then there’s the fact that he is extremely attractive and one hell of a flirt.”

“The fact that you mentioned his appearance last should be hint enough. You’ve been texting him non stop and you literally couldn’t keep your hands of each other each time I saw you. You are in love, girl. We all know you are too proud to admit you could ever have feelings for someone and all that shit, but it’s time to stop running because at this point you are just bound to end up miserable.”

“But-”

“No buts, for fuck’s sake, just give it a try? If it doesn’t work out, break up and you are back to where you are right now, and, that one’s more likely, if it does work out, you might actually be happy. Sounds insane, I know.”

He gauges your reaction, watches as the words register in your brain. Hands on your head, you slid down the wall until you are sitting on the floor, trying to sort out all the thoughts that are spinning in your head.

His eyes, his smile, the way his hair sticks up when he nervously runs his hands through. His smell. How his body fits against yours so perfectly, as if made to keep you safe at night. All those things fill you with a warm feeling and make your heart beat faster and, maybe, what you mistook as arrogance was just concealed jealousy all along. How you wanted him to like you, how you enjoyed him being yours. How fucking stupid you were, that you never realized it was because it meant that you could be his, too.

And this time, for the first time in a long while, you allow yourself to cry, let the tears stream down and smudge your make up, let the sobs shake your body. It feels good, like you are finally letting something trapped inside of you out. Johnny kneels down next to you, a hand rubbing over your shoulder soothingly as you keep your face buried in your hands. “I-I think you are ri-right. But I already f-fucked it up. I already hurt him. I can’t m-make it undone.”

“Hey, hey, look at me. No, you can’t make it undone, but you can make it up to him. Go to his place, be honest and fix what there is left. This isn’t over just yet.”

With watery eyes, you look at his eyes and nod. You’ll follow his advice.

 

* * *

  
  


You frantically press down on his doorbell, again and again, with no regard of the late hour. If his neighbours hear it, you don’t care, or if he might already be asleep. You just need him to let you in. When the intercom speaker crackles, you don’t let him ask who’s there, words are falling from your lips before you can stop them.

“Taeyong, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t-, I don’t know why-, I really like you, too.”

A buzz rings out, unlocking the door and you are sprinting up the stairs to his apartment. Out of breath, you stop for a split second and look at him, standing in the door frame, eyebrows furrowed and in a pair of ratty boxers and a thin shirt. He is about to say something, but he doesn’t get to. You occupy his lips as you fling yourself into his chest, fistfuls of his shirt keeping him close, and kiss him as hard as you can.

It takes a second for him to realize what is happening, to react accordingly. But then his hands grab your waist and he kisses you back with such vigour, it draws a desperate moan out of you. He ushers your inside without ever breaking the kiss, and keeps you pressed against the now closed door. Only when your vision starts spinning and you start to get light headed by the lack of oxygen does he let you go, even if his lips remain on you.

Placing kisses all over your cheeks and nose, along your jaw and down your neck, shushing you when you try to speak, to explain, to apologize. “I don’t care, I don’t want to hear it, not now. Just, let me make you mine.”

He comes back up to kiss you again, this time his tongue poking through, and you open up immediately. Tonight, and maybe from now on, you are his, no resistance. He explores your mouth, each nook and cranny, his hands doing the same along your body. You somehow manage to toe off your shoes before he guides you over to the bed, and in your eagerness, you trip over your own feet, causing him to pull you even tighter.

“Sorry, I’m a little drunk.”

“I can tell.” He pauses for a second to take in your face, and it’s hard for you to look back at him. You know your make up is smudged, eyes rimmed red from your earlier tears, and you are about to start crying again. He has accepted you back so quickly, without any questions asked and you don’t deserve any of it, it’s overwhelming you. He should be yelling at you, kicking you out, and not making out with you. Tears well up once more, and your lip starts to quiver. But he doesn’t stop looking at you, his thumbs carefully rubbing away the mascara stains as he smiles softly. “Hey, it’s okay. I am here and I am not going anywhere.”

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes, willing the the tears away as you lean in his touch. Then, you close back in to kiss him again, hoping it will translate all the things you want to say to him but cannot. Grabbing his shirt, you make sure he stays close and you pull him down onto the bed. He flips the two of you around, takes of his shirt and crawls on top of you. Your legs wrap around his waist as he starts devouring you.

His kiss is going from bittersweet devotion to a hungry craze, aggressive in its approach. After the first time, the two of you started getting rougher with each other, even if there was no one in particular that called the shots, always an even balance. So when his hands start pulling at your hair, your nails start digging into his skin, scratching lightly. Your heels dig into his lower back, too, making sure your hips are aligned when you start grinding up at him. He barely stiffles a groan.

Rolling you around, you straddle his thighs, his eyes on you as you strip out of your shirt and bra, letting him place his hand on your breast, moaning when he pinches your nipple. But tonight isn’t all about you, so you lean down to kiss down along his body. When you reach them, you push down his boxers to his mid thighs, letting him kick them off himself, before you settle on your knees between his spread legs.

Usually, you would love to tease, nibble at his hip bones, place a few kitten licks on the tip until he growls at you to get going, but today you waste no time. His cock is already hard, with just a pearl of precum leaking, and you take him in your mouth without hesitation. His familiar, salty taste spreads around your mouth. You expected his hips to snap up, so you manage avoiding gagging on him as you take him deeper. Your tongue swirls around him as you bop your head, and it doesn’t take long for the first moan to fall from his lips.

He collects your hair, all the thin strands that fall into your eyes, and holds it in a makeshift ponytail. It’s such a thoughtful gesture, it makes you want to work even harder. Alternating between taking him as far as you can without choking on him and circling your tongue against his tip, you hollow your cheeks as he glides down your throat. When your jaw starts hurting too much, you take a quick break, using your hand to jerk him until you are ready to take him again. It has him working up a frenzy quickly enough, guttural groans and grunts spilling.

His eyebrows furrow as his back arches, his bottom lip folded under his teeth, the grip on your hair getting tighter and tighter, soon bordering on painful. But you are determined to rile him up further, so you relax your throat and take him all the way until your nose is squished against his pubic bone. It’s uncomfortable, hard to breath, but you bear it easily. You stay like that until your lungs are screaming for fresh air, swallowing and humming around him. The tension in his body increases, his thigh muscles flexing under your touch and you know he is getting close. Yet, he tries his hardest to stay still, not wanting to hurt you.

When you pull away to let your lungs fill with oxygen again, a string of spit connects from your bottom lip to his flushed cock, and he has enough. Using the hold he has on your hair, he tugs you up so, eyes focused on your swollen, wet lips and he growls. “I am not cumming until I fuck you senseless, baby.”

Distracting you with a kiss, he sneaks his hand between your legs, rubbing, but through the thick fabric of your jeans it just feels like teasing. It’s not enough for him (or you) and he flips you over, dragging all of the fabric left on your body off of you, so baring your body in front of him. He nudges your legs apart, and without warning, slips two fingers inside. You mewl and arch your back as he smirk down while pumping his fingers in and out of you.

With his thumb rubbing on your clit simultaneously, it’s incredibly hard to stay collected. But he doesn’t want you falling apart just yet. Taeyong rouses you up just enough to have you desperate, feeling annoyingly empty when he withdraws to go put on a condom. You whine for him to hurry up - even if you expect him to make you wait, make you say how much you need him -  and he complies. Crawling back on top of you in no time, he pushed into you with a content sigh. You have long figured each other out, falling in a familiar rhythm right away. He thrusts with just the right angle to drive you wild, and you know where to touch him to keep him going. The only difference, this time is he hits it harder than usual, not in any aggressive way but as if each move is to claim you, show you how good he, and only he, can make you feel. And caged under his body, you find yourself feeling incredibly stupid to ever have doubted how much you want and need him, so you just hold him tighter, moan a little louder, let yourself be taken apart by him to show him everything you are too afraid to say.

Taeyong comes first. Hips stilling inside of you - you clenching around him to tease out the most - he collapses on top of you, head buried in your neck, whispers of _ mine, mine, only mine _ fanning against your skin. He doesn’t rest too long, pulling out and replacing his cock with two fingers, pumping vigorously. His tongue laps at your clit, too, making sure to have you cumming quick and hard.

And you do, with shut eyes and an arching back, you let his name fall from your lips and the waves of pleasure crash together over your head.

When he kisses you after, it’s interrupted again by that word -  _ mine  _ \- but this time your tongue bears the weight of it, too. A round two happens - more or less - in the shower after, your knees too wobbly to stand for long, and your bones too liquified for another orgasm, but he has fun with your oversensitivity and how easily he can make you moan his name.

And this time, you couldn’t be happier that you smell like him, that you end up huddled together in his bed. The last thing you take in before exhaustion whisks you away is the feeling of his lips on your forehead.   
  


* * *

 

“You’re late!” Yuta complains as you walk into the bar, already a few empty glasses on the table. Jaehyun next to him and rolls his eyes, and Johnny warns him not to ask where you were.

“Yeah, you probably don’t want to know that I had her bend over the kitchen counter just before we came here,” Taeyong laughs and squeezes your hand, the two of you taking place on the empty seats.

“I honestly liked it better when the two of you were fucking in secret,” Doyoung mumbles, a look of disgust on his face, but he beams at you all the same when he sees how your body slumps against Taeyong naturally.

“Babe, please do not announce the details of our sex life to all of our friends, thanks,” you snap back, faux annoyance in your voice, but he winks at you and nudges you slightly, mumbling something along the lines of  _ not all the details, they don’t know about the kinky stuff _ . “And secondly, Mark and Yeri aren’t here yet, either.”

“They are probably busy fucking right now as well.”

“Yeah, this is getting unbearable. I think it’s time for us to find girlfriends, too.”

Ignoring the jokes and complaints of the other guys, you turn to Taeyong and lean up to peck him on the lips. You still feel a bit weird doing it, especially in public. Sometimes even holding his hand seems too much to handle, but slowly you are getting used to it.

And you could no longer imagine a life without Taeyong by your side.

**Author's Note:**

> come scream with me on [tumblr!](https://snakescript.tumblr.com/)


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